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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331577">Swan Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry'>Maesonry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Work and Days [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Dadchilles, Eventual Character Death, Gen, Hades is a Bad Parent, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zagreus is missing.</p>
<p>Achilles breaks his contract to buy enough time to save him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Work and Days [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Can be read independent of “Hymn to Prometheus”, but is intended as additional, angsty reading material. Because I enjoy pain. Ooooouhhh the pain</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Achilles dies in agony.</p><p>   The poison rips its way through his veins, the coated arrow shot through his heel, the last gasping breaths leaving his lungs as his chest heaves and his eyes dart around in frantic, disbelieving desperation. Paris’ arrow has met its mark, and its lord above, Apollo, shines with joy. </p><p>    Achilles dies in agony, his strength ebbing out as he bleeds onto the ground, the sounds of battle around him. He cannot rasp a curse or a snarl through clenched teeth, nor as his limbs seize up, and he is not sure if it is a blessing or a curse that his face remains turned to the sky as the world flakes away into darkness. </p><p>    He imagines he sees Patroclus. </p><p>    And then, he awakens. The dream casts itself away in the form of a nightmare, already burying itself in the recesses of his mind. He looks around the House of Hades, and thankfully, no one noticed his lapse in wakefulness. Or, of the shades that did, none would dare voice what they had seen. Not to Lord Master Hades. Especially not now, he- .... no, not now. </p><p>    Achilles returns his attention to his task. His duty. Guarding the corridor is of the utmost importance; ensuring that no stray shades find their ways into the administration chamber, or to Master Hades’ bed chambers. It is, as it always is, a thankless task, peppered by boredom and stretches of monotony. There is rarely a shade that wanders into this section, and Achilles always gently ushers them off, always out of sight of his Master; least they earn his ire in that regard, too. But today (tonight?) is not one of those days, when even those occurrences are just memories. Instead, Achilles rests where he stands, and he...</p><p>    He tries not to think about how quiet it is. </p><p>   He never was very good at that kind of thing. Patroclus could attest. And so Achilles grips his spear all the tighter, turns his head away from the <del>quiet, far too quiet</del> meeting chamber, and instead, looks to... to Lord Thanatos, gazing out onto the River Styx. Alone. </p><p>   Oh. Oh, the poor lad.</p><p>    Achilles observes. There is not much else to do, as he stands guard for eternity, and he observes the way Thanatos hunches his shoulders and cages his arms. He is holding them close to his chest, as though he can protect his heart, back turned to Achilles as he stares out into the river of blood. The flowers on the table beside him have wilted. The nectar bottle rests under a blanket of dust. The memory sound of laughter still hangs in the air, like ambrosia on Achilles’ tongue, the songs of happier days and brighter times; the shroud of it suffocates them all now. </p><p>    “Zagreus...” Thanatos whispers. His voice is not meant to be overheard, but it is the habit of Achilles to overhear what he maybe should not. A habit that Zagreus picked up, too. Thanatos seems to draw in on himself more, and Achilles wonders if it would be out of place to try and offer a word of comfort. Perhaps. There is nothing he can say, either. Not when his own heart aches so strongly that it feels as though he has been poisoned all over again, the arrow shot through his chest this time, not the heel. “Zagreus... did we ever think that this...”</p><p>    The words trail off. They hang unfinished in the air, and then Thanatos exhales sharply. Grabs his scythe from where it rests and swings it in the air to return to his duties. Not before Achilles spots a scrap of orange laurel, tucked into a fold of his chiton, and Achilles nearly chokes on the sudden feeling of burning, violent sorrow, the wave of rage that climbs down his throat and rattles his ribs. Rage, not directed to Thanatos, but to his Master. </p><p>   Oh, how it burns.</p><p>    There is no grave for Zagreus. He is not dead. There is no funeral, no final words, but it feels as though there should have been. Because he is gone; he is locked away, and he is...</p><p>   The spear shaft splinters. Achilles relaxes his grip, but the damage is already done. The maid, Dusa, is already hurrying over, stammering apologizes as she cleans up the mess and says that she will find a new one for him, not to worry. Perhaps it is his gaze that has made her so frightened. He tries to soften it, but it is bitter, all the way through, and it bleeds into his eyes.</p><p>    “Forgive me,” Achilles apologizes. His tongue feels thick with anger, though his voice never rises a note. “I was not thinking.”</p><p>    “O-oh, no, don’t worry Achilles sir! I- it happens all the time; honest! I mean, not t-to you, but, to Z-“ Dusa stops, two tentacles flying to cover her mouth as her eyes widen in shock. Achilles glances over to make sure Hades has not heard. And, thankfully, he hasn’t. Still, Dusa says not another word, sweeping up the rest of the mess and then rambling another apology, before disappearing into the rafters. Another spear is already in Achilles’ hands. Idly, he wonders if he could snap Hades’ neck as easily as the wood had. </p><p>   It is a frightening thought. Sudden. He cannot push it down, though. Not as he imagines Zagreus, locked away in Tartarus. Zagreus. Zagreus, his <del>ward</del> student, suffering a punishment that the shades whisper is not unlike that of Prometheus. Again, the wood groans, and Achilles is fast enough to ease off. But his gaze remains sharp and cutting all the same, watching his Master. </p><p>    If it weren’t for that damned contract...</p><p>  He shifts his gaze. Turns to see Lady Nyx, gazing out onto the garden of Persephone. Her heart must hurt more than anyone else’s. Perhaps she and Achilles share that same pain, at least. Her hand extends outwards, and she plucks a pomegranate from a tree, holding it silently in her hand. Or perhaps the lack of noise is more emphasized now, with everything. No excited greetings. No splashes from the entrance pool. No hurried footsteps. Just silence, the occasional “denied!” that is shouted out by Master Hades. </p><p>    Is that why the sound of Lady Nyx opening the pomegranate seems so loud? It sounds like bone being crushed. The red juice drips down her fingers, onto the floor, and she stares at it idly. Distantly, even. How much it looks like blood, to Achilles, as he watches it pool on the ground. Bright red. Familiar. Oh, the rage burns. Are those tears on Nyx’s cheeks? Is it a trick of the lights? Denied, yells Hades through the chamber, and Achilles watches as Lady Nyx disappears out into the garden.</p><p>   Denied. Denied. The spear shaft groans, and Achilles inhales a breath he doesn’t need, lets it sit in his stomach. Tries, and fails, not to think about Zagreus. His <del>son?</del> ward, suffering simply for wishing to see his mother again- why was this time any different than all the others? What had he said to Master Hades, to earn this? To be so cruelly punished? His own son- but that, perhaps, is the reason too. Zagreus, to be punished for no reason except himself. </p><p>    The key to the entrance of his chamber in Tartarus rests in Achilles’ chest plate. It weighs him down like irons. If it weren’t for that damned contract...</p><p>   Well.</p><p>    A commotion begins to dawn. Shades all murmur amongst themselves, watching Hades argue with a particularly bold shade. Achilles turns his attention to it, too. </p><p>   And, he fails to notice the appearance of two new shades, from near the Pool of Styx. After all, why should he have? They weren’t remarkable; looked identical to every other shade that would drift by. But perhaps he should have. The two shades wander into the audience chamber, and they murmur as they speak to Hypnos, and then, walk towards Zagreus’ chambers. It is when they enter the room that Achilles finally notices. He begins to move, only to see Lady Nyx appear. How she looks to him and subtly shakes her head. Not yet, it seems to say. </p><p>     It means, she has a plan. It means, she will call upon him when the time is right. It means that, perhaps, these two simple shades were not so simply after all. That perhaps something more occurs.</p><p>    Achilles stands at his guard post. He stares at the audience chamber, and as he waits for the signal, for the first time in ages, he feels...</p><p>    Ah. Hope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you know that “swan song” is actually an Ancient Greek proverb? The more you know</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dusk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Give Zagreus my love. And, Patroclus, if you ever see him again.”</p><p>     Achilles can still picture the faces of the two shades in his head. Not shades, no. Gods, they must have been, to come this far to free Zagreus. The two gods. But so young, they were so young. Achilles wonders when they’d begun sending children to the battles of men; if the children of gods are the only ones who would dare try and save Zagreus.   </p><p>    It is in their hands now. Their hands, and their hands alone. Achilles has already turned his back from them, has given them the key to the chamber and his word. They will save Zagreus, of this he is certain. The word of Lady Nyx is a promise. But the two little gods- they are battle fresh. Have they ever seen the way the sun glittered off the blood of a sword? No, Achilles knows. It is not a judgement, but a fact. The one with the golden hair like nectar, her face young and guarded. The one beside her, his expression open and breezy. </p><p>    Easy prey for one like Hades. Lambs to the slaughter. </p><p>    No. Hades cannot be allowed to reach them. And this is something that Achilles can do; the contract that he’s signed burns in his mind, and the consequences for breaking it are dire. But Hades cannot lay a hand on Patroclus, not when that contract is separate, sealed. The only one who will be harmed now is Achilles, if he breaks his contract as he will, if he wields his spear against his Master; as he will. </p><p>   So long as Patroclus and Zagreus are safe, then Achilles does not mind. So long as they are safe. They are loved. That is all he needs to march off to die once more.</p><p>    The familiar feeling of rage drapes over Achilles like the touch of a lover, long forgotten, and he embraces it in turn, letting it burrow into his veins and make the world burn with red. The anger is a motive, something he engage with, and he wields it just as handily as his spear, as he rushes through Tartarus to intercept the god he already knows is coming. Lady Nyx cannot have held him off for long. Not with words alone. The two gods will need more help than words if they are to fight Zagreus’ companions to free him; to do so before Hades arrives in his fury.</p><p>      The ground yet shakes. Achilles has less time than he thought. It is foolish, yes, but he glances upwards, murmurs a prayer to Persephone that her son arrive safely to her again. He never asked if the gods hear the prayers of mortals, and fleetingly, he wonders. If perhaps... well. It doesn’t matter now. He readies his spear and exhales, whispering for the gods to keep him. </p><p>    Just in time for Master Hades to storm into the chamber. He looks around for a moment, then spots Achilles, and an expression of rage so strong erupts across his face. He has his battle helm on, and his bident drawn at the ready. There is hatred in his eyes, hatred for Achilles, hatred for whoever would dare defy his will in this realm. This is a god scorned. His voice is a booming echo from all around.</p><p>   “You! You forget your place, shade! Do you not remember that I was the one to grant you purpose when you needed it?!” Hades shouts. He slams the butt of his weapon against the ground, and fissures open up in the floor. “You dare to defy me; to aid whatever foolish plot there is to allow my son to escape his punishment?”</p><p>      Perhaps it is a rhetorical question. Still, Achilles answers. “Yes, Master Hades. I’m afraid so.”</p><p>     “Insolence I would have expected from my brothers, but from you? I shall make an example of you, then!” Hades draws his bident, points it at Achilles, so small in comparison. “Come, shade. See how it feels to die a final death.”</p><p>    Hades is built for power. His size and strength allow him to put full force behind his attacks, going for maximum damage with each thrust. But Achilles can memorize this, can dodge out of the way of a swing that goes too wide. Hades is large, but Achilles has always been made for speed. He rolls out of the way of one sweeping strike, skidding away from any retaliating blows. All he has is his spear; Hades is a god, home in his own realm. It is not a battle; it is simply buying time. Achilles knows he will not win this.</p><p>   Still, he must try.</p><p>   For every attack Master Hades makes, Achilles slides away from it, or under, or anything he can manage. Occasionally, perhaps, he manages to throw his spear to distract the god, but never for any real damage. He focuses on stepping back, and back, and buying as much time as he can for the two gods. For Zagreus. Achilles just barely ghosts out of the way of a swing, feels it brush past him, and he imagines Patroclus. He misses him. He wishes that- that their last kiss hadn’t been the last one. It wasn’t supposed to be the last, not like this. Oh, no. Not like this. </p><p>    Achilles lets Hades’ bident slam into the rock beside him, jabbing at his arm before shoving the spear into the bone to block it, just for a moment. Thinks of Zagreus as he backs away. The lad never deserved anything of this, either. Not the abuse of his father. The neglect. Not the guilt he doubtlessly will feel when he hears of Achilles’... fate. Those two gods- Hebe, was the one named? She had kind eyes. She will comfort Zagreus, then. Tell him it wasn’t his fault. He prays that she will; just as he prays that he has bought enough time after all. As he watches Hades step back, snap the spear in half as he yanks the bident out and bears down on Achilles.</p><p>    The bident is red, at the top. It reminds him of a bleeding sunrise, awash over the sea. It swings through the air, and Achilles can hear the sound of it before the image catches up, but not before he feels-</p><p>    It-</p><p>   Impact his chest-</p><p>   Clean through. His eyes are wide. </p><p>   He-</p><p>   “Sleep,” a voice says. Soft. Familiar. </p><p>   And Achilles-</p><p>  He-</p><p>    he-</p><p>   he...</p><p>  ...</p><p> </p><p>..</p><p> </p><p>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>He dead as hell<br/>Nice of Hypnos to give him a gentle sleep before death though</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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